In the Hour Before Us
by Mariagoner
Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy rescues girl. Boy then technically kidnaps girl. When Penelo first meets Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, she has no idea what's in store for her... AU Larsa X Penelo fic.
1. Chapter 1

I've been banging on about writing another older!Larsa and spirited!away!Penelo AU that'd be a little more light-hearted than "In the Wake of Tomorrow" for so long that finally putting this up feels almost anti-climactic! But anyway, here it is at last. And very special thanks goes to my lovely and talented beta-reader, Naviechance, who braved the horrors of finals week and my online wailings about dialogue and characterization to do a bang-up job looking this fic over. Anything half-way decent about this chapter is probably due to her. ;)

And as always, reviews are much appreciated! I really want to know if I should try and continue writing this series or switch over to the roughly billion other projects I've still got zinging around in my brain. (Such are the perils of belonging to about 4 fandoms at a time!) So if you enjoyed this-- or thought it was an awful waste of space-- do let me know and I'll take your opinion into consideration.

* * *

**Title: In The Hour Before Us, Chapter 1**

**Fandom: Final Fantasy XII**

**Pairings: Penelo X Larsa**

**Rating: PG-13**

**Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy rescues girl. Boy then technically kidnaps girl. When Penelo first meets Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, she has no idea what's in store for her... AU Larsa X Penelo fic**

* * *

It all began, as so many of the major events in Penelo's life did, as the result of something stupid that Vaan had done earlier.

That fact alone should not have surprised her. After all, most of her traumatic formative experiences could be traced, directly or indirectly, back to something stupid that Vaan had done. That one time, after Vaan's brother had died and her family had taken him in, that she had gotten herself spanked thoroughly for raiding the family cookie cabinet till it could not take any more? Vaan's fault. That curious incident on the Giza plains when she had been forced to run for her life from very angry werewolves who hadn't taken to grave robbing well? Vaan's fault.

And her present state as a guest of the imperial prince of Archadia -cum- kidnapping victim -cum- fugitive of the law? Also completely and utterly, through a torturous plot line that hurt her head to think of it too long, Vaan's fault.

Penelo might not know how long she'd be away from Rabanastre, or how many miles her current location was from there or even how she'd find a way back. But she found herself swearing all too furiously nowadays that she'd be damned if she didn't find her way home-- and that she was going to _kill _her very best friend in the world when she got there.

* * *

But that was going too far into the story in a way that didn't begin to explain how everything that had abruptly turned upside down in her life was (she felt this needed to be emphasized) _Vaan's fault._

And she hadn't even gotten to Larsa yet.

She knew she'd remember until the day she died of the way she had met Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, youngest son of perhaps the most powerful emperor in the world. Penelo wasn't the sort of person to have a lot of certainties in her life-- perhaps just that Migelo would always let her work in her store, that Kytes would always run to her when he needed a place to hide from angry, screaming store owners, that Vaan would always find a way to drag her along into his troubles-- but this was one of them.

It would be hard, of course, to forget any chain of events that started off with her very best friend in the world (who she was going to kill quite soon so never mind, scratch that part off) abruptly losing his mind, running off with dashing air pirates to steal priceless treasure and needless to say being caught (nobody had ever said Vaan was the brightest bulb in the lamp, after all). This heedless chain of events had somehow lead to her being kidnapped by a group of sadistic Bangaa bounty hunters with grudge against said pirate, which eventually necessitated a screaming run through deadly mines filled with the angriest skeletons in the world and ended with her being threatened with imprisonment by one of the empire's most frightening guard dogs for being gauche enough to be traumatized by everything that had happened.

All told, Penelo felt quite safe in designating this as one of the worst weeks in her life. It was true that nobody had died, which put it a little above her fifteenth birthday, but she didn't think she was going to paint this period in rosy tones in her inevitable, scandalous, scarlet-woman memoirs.

But even if all of that hadn't happened, she knew she'd still remember Larsa, the white of his gloves and the sparkle in his eyes and the glint of his blades and all. For one, the man really knew how to make a memorable entrance.

She had probably been arguing with one of the prick judges of the empire as to how much of a danger she really posed to whatever lord he had done such a terrible job of protecting when he'd arrived, rendering her oblivious to his presence. Perhaps he had stayed in the shadows for a moment or two, lingering beyond her sight to watch as she and Judge Ghoulish had come _thiiiiis_ close to exchanging more than harsh language and imaginative conceptions of their respective family lines with each other. Perhaps he had smiled a little as she had used nothing more than her fingers and her native love for shadow animals to demonstrate what exactly said judge probably did to himself when there was no one else around.

All she knew was that, somewhere along the line, the judge who had seemed quite excited about devoting the rest of the afternoon to persecuting her abruptly switched his attention towards the entrance of the mines. "I see you've been out walking without the company of your cortege, Lord Larsa. We caught this little… vagrant wandering out of the mines. You must take care with such undesirables about."

Something about the reverence with which the metal plated bastard spoke that name sent a fission of tension through Penelo. Even then, however, she hadn't really seen him just yet, focusing all her ire (clouded through confusion though it might be) on her would be interrogator. "I was kidnapped! It wasn't as though I decided to run unarmed through fiend-infested mines on some merry lark!"

The judge just glared at her again and they might have easily come to blows-- which she knew very well would be disastrous for her, but oh, how she itched to rip his helmed off and wipe off that smug smile she just knew existed behind it-- had a quiet, calm but very firm voice not interrupted them both.

"If it is a crime to wander on one's own... then I too am guilty. This young lady, no doubt, has had enough tribulations to justify her actions-- more so, even, than I. If anything, she's more in need of help than all of the rest of us placed together. Marquis, I trust that your estate can accommodate another guest?"

It was then he had stepped into the sunlight, the mythical Lord Larsa they had talked of with such acclaim... and something in Penelo stopped and wondered. He had to be someone important if one of the highest authorities of the Archadian law looked ready to bow down to the knee in front of him... and yet, he wasn't exactly an imposing portrait of royal power either.

He was simply a tall young man of about her age, with dark, shining hair, a calm, rather bemused looking face, and narrow, piercing, blue-gray eyes that were already fixed on her, even through the glare of the sun.

It was at that point that Penelo, as though the kidnapping alone hadn't been a clue, should have known that her life would change forever.

"Judge Ghis," he finally said in reply to something she had barely heard, "I shall heed your counsel. I will not travel unaccompanied any longer."

Somewhere in between the moment she had first seen him and he had first touched her, Penelo finally realized that this was to be a turning point of sorts. Somehow, she knew that she'd always remember the glint of the armor of the judge glowering at her, the way the light had hurt her eyes so as she stumbled out of the darkness, the dizzy vertigo that came from knowing that she was free and yet not free in the sky city she found herself within, and the catch in her throat that came as her knight in silk and velvet had caught her hand in his and led her towards the safety for what seemed the first moment in forever.

"Thank you, Penelo," he had whispered afterwards, as they had walked through the streets towards sanctuary, his fingers still laced with hers, his smile still soft and tender.

Still taken aback by his touch, by the suddenness of his decision to protect her, she could only stutter out a weak, "Of course" in reply. Which was stupid, really, a stupid way of repaying his kindness. She should have been the one thanking him for what aid he had given her.

And naturally, she had, later. She was grateful. She'd always be grateful.

She just didn't know if she was really grateful enough to give him what he wanted from her afterwards.

* * *

It was only an hour later, when Penelo found herself locked in a spacious but still unmistakably intimate bedroom at the estate of the local ruler with her newfound protector, that the panic set in.

It wasn't especially because she didn't trust this Lord Larsa. She trusted him insomuch as she could trust any virtual stranger that had swept out of the blue and saved her from near-certain incarceration. It was just that Penelo had heard before that young men could act like animals around young women, and long experience with Vaan had taught her that said stories were mostly true. Of course, Vaan was also like the idiot brother that nature had kindly spared her, so he had never actually gotten fresh with her. (The thought alone was too much to contemplate sober.)

But this Larsa, no matter how masterfully he had just helped her, was very much a young man to her young woman. Though he looked harmless enough, standing with his hands folded at his front and peering at her through the cover of his ridiculously long lashes, she had no idea of what sort of person he really was.

There was just she and he in this room right now, a spacious and terribly comfortable looking bed a few feet away. This was just the sort of scenario she had whiled away far too many hours reading about in cheap romance novels that inevitably starred a hero with a mullet and larger breasts than she had. Thankfully, it didn't look as though Larsa was ready to start ripping off her non-existent bodice-- which was just as well, considering most her wardrobe now looked as though it had already suffered mightily at the jaws of a mutant Chihuahua.

Unable to take it any more, Penelo finally broke their increasingly vicious cycle of glancing towards the ground, at each other for a half second, and then back down with a question that was gaining increasing momentum in her mind. "Anyway, the person behind us, the one who was trying to manhandle me when you came along, he called you Lord Larsa. So, um, even though this is probably a really stupid question, I just wanted to know. Who are you, in particular?"

She winced at the question even as it flew out of her mouth. Way to take one for the team in terms of looking like an absolute rube, sweetheart.

But no trace of mockery shifted Larsa's elegant features as he laced his hands in front of him and began to answer. If anything, a small smile seemed to be playing upon his lips. "I fear that there's almost... too many ways in which I can begin answering your question. But probably the simplest way is to ask if you know of a man named Gramis Gana Solidor."

The name sounded all too familiar.

"He is the emperor of all of Archadia-- as well as my father."

Oh hell, oh damn, oh blast it all. She was in so, so, so much deeper than she thought. If Vaan had any sense or idea of what inventive tortures swept through her mind now, he'd stay clear of her until she lost the ability to securely hold a hammer.

"I felt it only right to tell you the truth, since events have conspired to let me know exactly who you are."

Again, Penelo felt capable of only staring blankly at him. Something had seriously gone awry with the world if someone like him knew of someone like her, rather than vice versa. "And... I'm sorry but I have to ask, who do you think _I_ am?"

Tilting his head to the side, Larsa answered. "You're Penelo Antirrhinum Majus, aren't you? I don't suppose there could be more than one kidnapped damsel in distress taken within the depths of the Lhusu mines at the time I arrived."

She had always been ridiculously bad at hiding surprise. Tying to stifle a smile at the expression on her face, Larsa went on. "You're sixteen years old, you've lived in Rabanastre all your life, you work as a dancer for the Muthru Bazaar and a shop clerk for Migelo's Sundries, and you apparently have a _very_ mean right hook when you're mad."

Her brain felt oddly swimming for a minute, as though she'd just taken in Old Dalan's secret stash of non-Archadian-approved pharmaceuticals again. "And how do you know all that?"

Across from her, Larsa quirked an eyebrow up. "Because the friend that came to rescue you told me so."

"Vaan!" Penelo immediately clapped her hand over her treacherous mouth, even as the echoes of her cry rang through the room. When Larsa gave a small nod of acknowledgement, she simply wanted to scream out some more. She couldn't help it, she really couldn't. Gruesome thoughts about all that she could do to Vaan with a load of phoenix down, one very sharp axe and stick of butter aside, he was her friend. Her very best friend. And despite it all, despite all the times they had fought and quarreled and argued and nagged each other, he had come for her.

He had really come. They might have wasted many cheerful hours planning out Vaan's eventual brilliant career as a sky pirate; he might have spent just as long telling her that she was damn well invited for the ride. He had always joked that even if he had to travel halfway across the world to have her by his side, she'd be with him. And that was just what he'd done now. He hadn't _succeeded_, true-- that she was still in one piece was more a testament to Bangaa negligence and this Larsa's kindness that anything else. But he had still come for her.

She felt like a lunatic, she felt like an idiot, she felt so grateful to be who she was now, despite everything, that she'd probably only end up nicking Vaan's pocket change for the next couple of months as punishment. Hell, she might even let him pick _hers_. She couldn't stop smiling, she couldn't stop believing, and something soft and slick went sliding down her cheeks and wide, wobbly mouth before she even knew it.

"He really means that much to you?" A soft voice interrupted her mid-hysterics and even through her haze of sudden happiness and even more present exhaustion, she answered.

"Vaan's my best friend," she told him, wiping away her ridiculous tears as quickly as possible. "In the entire world, in all of the world. Haven't you got someone like that?"

All the warmth in his face was as quickly snuffed out as the light within the Lhusu mines.

"No, I-- not quite." Very carefully, with his eyes turned towards his spotless white gloves as though in examination, Larsa continued. "You two must have known each for a very long time."

And how. "You could definitely say that." Penelo shifted a little and tried not to feel too dizzy at that slight movement. She had only been speaking with Larsa for a few minutes, and she already wanted to crawl into the bed that lay so lovingly beside her. But she owed him at least her thoughts and her history, if he wanted that much. "I've known him since we were five years old and he introduced himself by puking all over my shoes after a few too many spins on the merry-go-round. He even lived with me and my family after-- well, for a while."

Larsa's laugh was soft and gentle and sounded curiously like a lullaby. "And you must have grown quite close since. Do you consider Vaan to be as a brother?"

Penelo laughed right back as best as her lungs could manage. "I guess I can sometimes see picture him like that. I actually did have an older brother but he-- well. He isn't here anymore, but Vaan is, and he drives me insane on a regular enough basis to fill in the spot."

Larsa finally raised his head at that. "Older brothers really do seem to go out of their way to cause trouble, don't they?"

"Yeah," she said, softly. "Yeah, they do. It's damn lucky for them that we're stuck with them, right?"

"Right," he said, his voice all smooth and velvety and warm again, and reached out to take her hand in his. Her short, narrow fingernails scraped against the fine cloth of his gloves as she reared back in surprise. Even through them, his hands were surprisingly warm. "They are, and I'll keep you safe even from the worst of them. As I ought to have said before, I'm your protector now. Wherever I go, I'll attend you and keep you away from harm."

Again, Penelo had the sensation that something vital was slipping from beneath her aching feet, and she hardly aware of it.

"Why?" she asked, softly, genuinely lost. It almost felt as though there was some enormous story tugging at the world around her, one that she could only glimpse at through confused little cut-scenes that mostly precluded her. "I'm so grateful that you helped me back there that it's ridiculous. And I'm still not sure why you did it but I'm so, _so_ thankful for that. But you don't have to do anything else for me. I can't-- it'd be stupid for me to take up any more of your time, since Bhujerba has a lot of airships. If I can scrape up the fare, it should be easy to get back to Dalmasca."

Of course, that still left the question of how on earth Penelo could scrape up said fare. She wondered if any relatives of Migelo worked in Bhujerba, how long it would take to go home again, and whether Kytes had managed to get into any trouble in the meantime. He always did take Vaan as a role model far more seriously than he ought.

"Because," Larsa replied, voice still serene, "Vaan would have wanted me to-- and because he helped me in a grave matter earlier. He's a very... strong and giving person, despite some rough edges, and I thought I ought well pay him back for his favor."

Oh. That made sense. Vaan, massively aggravating or not, did have a certain bone-headed sort of charm that seemed to draw people in, like moths to a rather dim flame. But despite that explanation, something in Penelo wilted a bit. She didn't want to be seen as some charity project, taken in because of her friend's actions, and she still wanted to ask...

"But even if you didn't feel like you had to help me because of Vaan helping you earlier... well, would you have?"

Larsa's eyes narrowed at the floor and Penelo went still, waiting for an answer. There, again, went her mouth, running off without her brain having any say in it whatsoever. The very last thing she wanted to do was offend him-- or, god forbid, have him throw her to the tender mercies of Judge Ghastly once more. But after a long, agonizing minute, Larsa answered her with no chagrin whatsoever in his tone.

"What did you call him again?" Larsa finally asked, one side of his mouth coming up seemingly without his notice. "Judge Ghis, I mean, when we first met each other. I couldn't hear your initial conversation very clearly, but it seemed as though he had done something to upset you and you said he 'sure was talking big for a giant armored tampon,' yes?"

Embarrassed, Penelo cringed and tried to hold down a guilty giggle, only to look up and see Larsa's shoulders shaking in silent laughter. When he finally recovered, he looked up with a grin. "On the whole, you're quite an unusual person, Penelo. And I would have protected you even without knowing exactly who you were. It's the least I could do for all the entertainment you provided me earlier."

Without meaning to, Penelo's mouth formed another perfect O. Larsa smiled at her again, this time with all of his face and with wide, warm eyes, and something around her knees abruptly wanted to buckle. She wasted almost a whole minute wondering why that was before she finally realized he wanted an answer.

"Yes," she said, after the last of the echoes in her mind had died down. "Yes, that's a good reason. And I... I just wanted to thank you for that, again. If there's anything I could do for you to really repay you in something besides entertainment value though... just let me know, all right?"

Larsa simply looked at her again, seriously this time, with eyes as solemn as a widow's shroud. "In fact-- and thank you for offering, Penelo-- in fact, there is something you can do for me. But it might take far longer for you to reunited with your friend and return to your home if you do. Would you be willing to help me, regardless?"

* * *

And that was how she found herself actually thinking of traveling to Archades as the royal heir apparent's guest -cum- mistress just a few days after she had met him.

Friendship be damned, she really was going to kill Vaan in his _sleep _as soon as she found a way back to Rabanastre.


	2. Chapter 2

When life lets you down a bit, it's always nice to have fanfic to retreat to. While this possibly means I'm co-dependent on fandom, at least it keeps me productive.

In any case, this particular chapter is dedicated to Serindrana, because she very kindly reminded me of the existence of this series, and to Zamnandi, because she was the very person to ever review the first chapter. With reviewers as good as you two sweethearts, who needs betas? ;) (But more on that point later!)

And as always, reviews, comments and constructive criticism are _always_ adored-- especially for this series! I freely admit to this being the first long-running narrative I've ever tried penning and any help is greatly appreciated.

* * *

**Title: In the Hour Before Us, Chapter 2  
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII  
Pairings: Larsa X Penelo, featuring Older!Larsa  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy rescues girl. Boy then technically kidnaps girl. When Penelo first meets Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, she has no idea what's in store for her... An Alternative Universe fanfic.**

* * *

It was hard not to be appalled by Larsa's plan when he first explained it, no matter how sweetly or earnestly he went about doing so. And the terrible thing was that Larsa really was very sweet and earnest and wide-eyed in an almost charming way as he went about systematically breaking Penelo's brains with his carefully placed words. All in all, after about a half an hour's worth of explanations, all Penelo could do was sit in a state of mild shock (this seemed to be turning into her default emotion more and more as life piled on its surprises) and ask him to go over all of it again.

"Can you," Penelo said slowly, clearly, so the royal madman before her could understand, "please summarize what you want me to do? In smaller and more colorful words? So my brain doesn't hurt this time?"

At least Larsa was game (or desperate) enough to give it a try. "It's all very simple, Penelo. All I need you do is come with me to Archades, pretend to be my… special female friend while we travel together for a while, train me to pass as an ordinary Rabanastran citizen, kidnap me back to your city and help me figure out the truth of a few… _interesting_ allegations made about the politics within it. It really shouldn't take more than a few months-- a year at most-- of your time and I shall make sure that you're handsomely compensated for your efforts afterwards."

Unfortunately, it didn't make any more sense the second time around. Either she had lost her mind and this was just a bad fever dream that came from unwisely ingesting Vaan's experiments in Ordalian cooking (which tended to be heavy on potential hallucinogens) or all the inbreeding that nobility did as a matter of course was finally manifesting itself with a vengeance right in front of her appalled eyes.

She didn't know what was a worse possibility and really just wanted to retire discreetly to bed with a wet washcloth over her forehead right now.

And yet, it was surprisingly hard to look into Larsa's earnest face and turn him down. But it was equally difficult not to be shocked at the idea of parading around one of the grandest courts of Ivalice while pretending to be... what it was that he wanted her to pretend to be… and kidnapping one of its blue-blooded notables right afterwards. So in the end, Penelo had to go with her first impulse.

"Absolutely not," Penelo said, firmly and carefully, though she ended up wanting to immediately comfort a stricken Larsa afterwards. Maybe the real power of the Archadian empire lay not so much in their magic or might but in the way the ruling house had of guilt-tripping enemies into compliance.

It would go a long way towards soothing wounded her Dalmascan pride about how quickly her empire had folded so quickly against it, anyhow.

"I'm really sorry," she tried again in the midst of some seriously damaging puppy eyes, "but when I used to dream of a man bringing me home as a little girl, this wasn't exactly what came to mind. Even putting aside all the ways this could go wrong-- and there are _so_ many ways this could go wrong-- what makes you think I would even be believable as a-- well-- a-- you know what you want me to be! I mean, I know I'm not ugly enough to go around with a paper bag on my head, but I'm still not really, you know..."

Beautiful, that was what she meant. She wasn't exactly beautiful. She'd be cat-called by enough construction workers on her way to and from her dancing job at the Muthru Bazaar (really, where was the Archadian empire _hiring_ these perverts?) to know she wasn't offensive looking. But she'd also seen the lithographs of famous courtesans being passed around by in the Sand Sea tavern enough times to know she didn't exactly measure up to those standards either. She didn't have any sort of complex about her appearance, thank god, but there wasn't anything about her that stood out either. If she was sure about _anything_ in the madhouse that was turning out to be her life, she was sure about that.

Inexplicably, the young lord before her paused before his next words.

"Trust me," Larsa muttered, eyes suddenly fixed firmly on his lace-up boots, "I don't think anyone would dispute your _physical_ ability to serve in such a capacity." And then, as though feeling the weight of her blank stare on him, he rushed on. "But in any case, Penelo, even if you don't think you look fine as is, you may well dabble in... makeup and dresses and all of those other feminine... accruements. So, if that is the only problem you have with this idea, we could go purchase these items together and--"

"It isn't!" she interrupted with a near howl. "I mean, I know I really owe you one, Lar-- Lord Larsa, but this is asking a lot of me! We've barely even met--" (never mind that she was screaming at him already, oh, he must have _such_ such a high opinion of her rationality right now) "--and how do you know that I'd even be able to help you? How do you know I can do what you want me to and not somehow screw up somewhere along the way?"

"Because." And suddenly, what seemed to be all the authority of the ages swelled into Larsa's voice for a moment, until Penelo was reminded forcefully of another Archadian royal that had walked into Rabanastre a while back. Hell, considering how tangled noble bloodlines tended to be, that other one was probably his half-sister's cousin's nephew's chocobo herder, or something like that. No wonder there was a family resemblance.

But any thought of that fled her mind quickly when he straightened before her and looked down at her with glittering eyes and a set mouth and one imperial chin delicately raised in the air. If ever she had had doubts about the blue blood in his veins, they were rapidly evaporating now. "Because when someone of House Solidor has a plan, we work beforehand to make sure it's fool proof… and ensure that all falls into place afterwards."

Then he smiled at her, one corner of his mouth tilting further up than the other, till Penelo's flurry of emotions settled underneath that almost delicate expression. "And considering how neither of us are fools at all, that first part might not even apply. I… know now that what I'm asking of you is very difficult indeed. But if you're willing to play this part with me, it _would_ be of great help-- to both my kingdom and yours." Finally, with his smile tilting up even further, Larsa added, "Besides, considering how strongly Vaan stressed your affinity with magic, the learning you'll find if you let me take you north might surprise you. You might even be able to garner some pleasure from the trip after all."

Flushing unaccountably under that final smile, Penelo could barely stammer out her next reply. "I'll have to think about that one. If I decide to go and all. And, um, I'm sorry if I've been acting like an opium-addled den whore for most of this conversation. It's… well, it's just been a rough couple of days." Then, looking up at him plaintively, she promised, "I'll be a little more rational when I wake up."

And with that, Penelo managed to stagger a few inches to the right, just enough to ensure she would meet bed and not ground when gravity inevitably came down on her, and fell to what seemed the best deserved nap she'd ever had.

* * *

She woke up, a small eternity later, to what seemed like bird-song.

Underneath her closed lids, she could hear it strum through the air around her, gentle, moon-mad music that reminded her of lazy Sundays in bed in years that had long since left her. Somehow, the gentle vibrations of the music seemed to settle right into her skin, seemed to remind her of a place that now seemed impossibly far away, of people now long gone. Somehow, despite all that had happened to her in the last few days, she was reminded irresistibly of all the things that had already fallen away-- of Vaan's bad humming and Migelo's booming voice, of her worn slippers at home and her failed attempts at having breakfast in the bath, of her father's scratchy chin hair and her mother's calloused hands, of her brother's vicious elbows and even more impossibly evil laugh.

For a minute, it was almost as though she were back again in Rabanastre, back _home_, back to a place where Bangaa bounty hunters and imperial judges of terrifying, world-conquering empires could never affect her again. And for what seemed the longest moment in a long, long while, all Penelo wanted to do was unfurl her body from underneath the soft, fluffy bed covers someone had placed upon her and listen to that sweet, soft, beautiful melody.

Then she opened her eyes and turned her head and saw it was none other than Larsa Ferrinas _Solidor_, hunched over the desk beside her bed, almost wordlessly murmuring a tune that still seemed to vibrate against her bones, even after she knew who was singing it and why hearing him do so ought to feel so wrong.

And then he turned to her and in the golden halo of luminous light that seemed to consume him for a minute-- how much time had passed since they had first met? Was it the next morning already?-- he looked almost…

He hadn't been handsome, not the first time she had seen him; he had looked like a noble and they weren't, for all their fine breeding, very aesthetically pleasing people. He had a rather heavy chin and too a long nose, ears that stuck out prominently and a ridiculously, almost girlishly full mouth, cheekbones that looked too sharp for his face and long, silky hair she found to be almost unfairly beautiful-- unfair, in this case, meaning far better than hers.

But somehow, all of those faults seemed to be erased and consumed by the soft golden light against him, until he looked every bit like the guardian angel he had been so determined to be when they had first met.

None of this, still, was anything she should be noticing.

"Oh," she finally said, after realizing it was rather impolite to look for so long or gape at him like someone had just slapped her upside the head with a dead haddock. "It's… I just… it really wasn't a … you were really… _oh_."

"Good morning," Larsa said pleasantly in turn, and the very sound of his voice made her feel… _lost_. "And it _is_ morning now. You've been slumbering away for almost two days, in case you've wondered."

"Oh," she said some more, because clearly practical thought seemed to have abandoned her just as thoroughly as luck had this week. And at that, Larsa laughed and threw his head back as he did so, exposing the long, lean curve of his throat, brown and shining and beautiful when set against the ruff of his snow pale shirt.

Swallowing hard, Penelo forced herself to look past him and at the windows open wide at the edges of the bedroom. Windows were good. They were very good. You could look out at them and see things beyond them and not fall out while you were doing so. They were nice, good, shiny objects that couldn't possibly bring her as much grief as the boy before her. That way lay madness, _especially_ if she ended up going along with his scheme. Boys, especially beautiful boys, usually led to nothing but trouble.

She already knew that much, anyway. She might have been only 16, but she had already figured that out.

"I'm sorry," she finally managed. "I know I've been acting a little crazy since you first met me. Well, actually, make that a whole _lot_ crazy. God, actually I'm still shocked that I've got all my limbs still working and attached to my body after I mouthed off an actual _judge_." That, at least, bought out another smile. "But…" And then she looked at him, _really_ looked at him, peering at him from underneath her fluttering lashes, just the way her mother had taught her for emergency use. This time, it was _his_ turn to blink and let his eyes fly to the window-sills. "I've been running ragged-- a little _too_ literally if you know what I mean and you probably do-- these last couple of days. Do you suppose I could maybe take a bath now? I mean, you don't have to do anything more for me, of course, you've done plenty already. But…"

Penelo sort of just shrugged lamely by the end of it, feeling ridiculously embarrassed for no reason whatsoever. It hadn't been _her_ fault she had been kidnapped and manhandled by some of the nastiest gents this side of Ivalice, after all. "Well, it'd help."

"I'm glad to hear so." And when she looked at him, he turned so that she couldn't read his face at all. "As a matter of fact, I've been planning on just that sort of contingency for days now. I'm sure your present ordeals have been dreadful and coming clean could only help. I have only one question left for you now, as a matter of fact."

"Huh?" Penelo asked and then, flushing at how ignorant she must sound at this moment, continued. "What's that?"

"Do you prefer bath crystals that are scented with rose or lavender?"

* * *

After a short time spent mulling over the delicate crystals he had presented to her with in both palms, rose in left and lavender in right, Penelo chose the former. And an hour later, with a stomach filled to bursting with Bhujerban delicacies, she was luxuriating in a bathtub the size of her bedroom in Rabanastre. Her biggest dilemma so far was being torn between sinking into the sweetly perfumed waters around her until every ache in her body faded and marveling at the sight of _actual hot water_ pouring into her tub _while she was in it_. Apparently, they had pipes that could do those sorts of things in the Marquis of Ondore's residence! Dear god, what _would_ they think of next?

Maybe she wouldn't kill Vaan when she finally hunted him down after all. Maim him a bit, sure-- the encounter with Judge Gooney and his stupid red pantaloons of doom alone was worth that much. But he'd been bitching about how awesome sky pirates looked with one eye patch so she didn't see what was so bad about fixing it so he needed _two_. And she could always buy him a seeing eye chocobo afterwards, if worse came to worse.

Leaning back in the tub, having decided on the 'sinking' option after all, Penelo sighed as she felt the hot water gently support her weight and lap against her chin. It just felt so _good_ to let go, to feel clean and whole and unharmed, to not have to worry about getting her head chopped off by overzealous mark huntsmen or possibly paraded on a pike by even bitchier Judge Magisters.

It felt even better, if possible, to feel comfortable in her skin once more. She had acting far more aggressively than usual for the last few days and, for all of Vaan's stupid, obnoxious and _completely unwarranted _jokes about her being a complete and terrifying force of nature every few days of the month, she usually didn't act like that. (Well, aside from when she had to run away that _stupid_ Saurian in the Estersand of Dalmasca, anyway. She would _kill_ that stupid reptile with her bare hands one day, she had long promised herself.) She'd been tired and cold and hungry and terrified out of her mind for most of the past few days and though she didn't really blame herself-- no use doing so, what was done was done-- she knew she had to ship up before she really _did_ get herself in even more trouble.

Not, she thought wistfully, that she was exactly in the home clear yet. In fact, it didn't seem as though she was likely to go home for quite some time. Even if she somehow managed to get herself out in the streets of Bhujerba without someone coming after her to lop her head off and mount it in a trophy room in Archadia, chances were slim that she'd be able to afford a air ship ticket back to Rabanastre so easily.

If she still had her weapons or armor with her-- even a knife and cloak would do at this point-- she could have tried to head back to the tunnels and maybe kill a few weak bats for loot to sell. But she didn't and even if she did, it would be dangerous to head back to a place that had had murderous Bangaa banging around it. So that route seemed to hold little promise for her.

There was still the option of working her way towards a ticket. She'd worked for Migelo's Sundries in Rabanastre and even did so well at being a shop-girl that he occasionally left her in charge and let her close up the store by herself. But Migelo was-- well, he wasn't _like_ most other merchants. He actually trusted the orphans of Rabanstre, even though most of the people there, even those in Lowtown, treated them like a form of life only a little above actual sewer rats. And he trusted Penelo because he knew she had her head fixed more firmly on her shoulders than anyone else her age. God only knew that she was practically a shining beacon of industry and authority next to the likes of Vaan and Kytes.

But somehow, she doubted that the people of Bhujerba-- _especially_ the merchants-- would suddenly decide to let a scrawny, ragged teenager nobody knew work in their businesses. And even if they did... where would she live in the meantime? Who could she stay with? She didn't much fancy the idea of being homeless for as long as she was in the sky city but that was becoming a very grim possibility.

But, as she clearly remembered her mother once saying, where a door closed, a window opened. And Larsa… Larsa could offer her just the window she needed to crawl through now.

Larsa himself was another puzzle, wrapped in a riddle, tossed inside a steel plated safe she didn't have the combination for. He _seemed_ kind, he really did-- he had gone out of his way to help her, he had apparently been concerned for her since he heard about her from Vaan, and he had talked of respecting her best friend which… actually, it just made her wonder about his taste but Vaan could be kind of endearing in his utter silliness so she let that go.

But still-- still. However kind he might be, he _was_ of the ruling house of Archadia. He was a noble who had probably been pampered from the time he could walk onward. He was a blue-blood who had those walking monstrosities in tacky gold bling guarding him day and night.

And most importantly, he was the son of the emperor of Archadia, the man who had ordered the take-over of Dalmasca, who had released the plagues that had taken her parents in their sleep, who had authorized the wars that had slaughtered her brother on the front line.

His family had ruined hers before she had even turned fifteen years old.

She could hate him for that. Half the people in Rabanastre probably would have argued that she _should_, that having the blood of murderers in his veins made him just as good as one. And it _was_ tempting to just throw Larsa, and all the very many complications he could bring into her life, into that category and just move on. It would just be easier in the long run.

But.

But he still seemed so… young in so many ways. Despite how incredibly tall he was, Larsa's face was still all sharp angles crammed into a too-small space, his body was almost too thin for the enormous sword he carried even indoors, and he had the gangly grace of someone who hadn't quite grown into his limbs yet.

And when he talked, when he had explained his plans to her… he seemed younger and more innocent still still. Larsa had clearly put some thought into his plans and in fact, when he had first run through them, she had to give him credit for how surprisingly sharp and detailed his scheme was. But his assumption that she'd simply go along with his plans to help _his_ empire, happy as could be despite _her_ Dalmascan origins, made her boggle. In many ways, he seemed so… strangely coddled, like someone who had received his way for so long that the thought of conflicting desires puzzled him.

And for all the stereotypes, he didn't seem particularly _spoiled_, which Penelo was grateful for because then she'd probably end up smothering him in his sleep during any journeys they took together and she didn't much fancy life as a royal-killing fugitive. But he seemed… oddly naïve and sheltered from the real world and, for all her own faults, Penelo herself hadn't been any of those things since the war.

People underestimated her, she knew that. They always had and they always would. Maybe it was because of her fair hair or her girlish features, her diminutive height or her willingness to blush at every stray innuendo, but they never seemed to quite believe that she was very strong. Very few people had ever looked at her, _properly_ looked at her, and realized that she was someone who had managed to survive war in her kingdom, who had endured the death of almost all her family and loved ones, who had managed to scrape out a living doing odd jobs since the age of 14 with no-one but her best friend at her back.

But she _was_ all these things, and more. She was the daughter of a man who had somehow owned a magical shop despite a complete formal lack of training. She was the child of a woman who had borne six children and buried four of them almost before their birth and still carried stubbornly on. And she was the sister of the single toughest, pettiest, most obnoxious jackass Rabanastre might have ever known, the man who was still famed muscling his way into an order of knights despite their family's thoroughly common origins and less than sainted blood.

She didn't have the royal blood of kings running through her veins, which was just as well considering how thoroughly obliterated the nobility of Dalmasca was now. But she had hardiness and fortitude bred into her bones and coiled in her blood and if fate thought a little something like being completely over her head in a world of princes and politics would throw her off, it had another thought coming.

True, she hadn't had much of a head-start on her triumph-over-all-adversity goal, what with her doing the whole damsel-in-distress, fainting-after-too-much-drama thing to an extent that annoyed even her. But she could still work with these drawbacks. In fact, she might even work _better_ with these drawbacks, since very few people tended to play hardball with girls who seemed ever so fragile and susceptible to the ills of the world.

Penelo had never been the most devious person in the world, but she knew how to take her advantages when they came at her. She had little enough else in her corner, after all.

With a look of steely determination that would have impressed Vaan if he were around to see it, Penelo lifted herself out of the tub and reached out for a towel. It was time to stop reminiscing and start investigating, to stop daydreaming and start negotiating… and to figure out what, exactly, she would have to do or who she could help if she went along with Larsa's plans in the months to come.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Next time! Our would-be couple paints the town red! Larsa unveils more of his fiendish plot! And Penelo has to get accustomed to a few _strange_ customs… 

Incidentally, is anyone perhaps willing to become my plot beta for this fic? I need someone who I can bounce my ideas off of and who'd be willing to whack me in the face with something pointy when they get too dopey, outrageous or intricate. Is anyone out there with writing/beta-ing experience perhaps tempted? I can bribe you with lots of shiny drabble fic!


	3. Chapter 3

Have you ever had the experience of doing something terrible to keep yourself from doing something worse?

Well, this is like the fanficcing equivalent of that. I'm putting this up so I don't put a half-raw and very much in need of revision version of chapter 1 of Twitlight up. (Rosalie is, damn it all, currently refusing to have a narrative voice that's very different from my Penelo's.) But-- while that's in the works, I thought I might as well put that up. It's for a dead series that will never again be updated-- but it was damn fun while it lasted, which about sums up my time in the FFXII fandom.

And a big thanks to **moontear** for really helping with Larsa's letter. Gallantry with _just_ the slightest edge of snark will never cease to be awesome to me.

* * *

**Title: In The Hour Before Us, Chapter 3  
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII  
Series: In The Hour Before Us  
Pairings: Larsa/Penelo, the slightest hint of Penelo/Larsa/Other (please don't kill me…)  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Boy meets girl. Boy rescues girl. Boy then technically kidnaps girl. When Penelo first meets Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, she has no idea what's in store for her...  
Note: AU, Older!Larsa.**

* * *

Unfortunately, Penelo's brilliant plan of tracking Larsa down to investigate what would happen if she set off into the wider world as his hired trollop suffered from a fatal flaw.

Which was, of course, the fact that as soon as she wanted to see him desperately… she found neither hide nor hair of him. And even as she inched her way around her current spacious quarters, she cursed the miserable fates that always handed her an anti-climax precisely when she wanted something to _happen._ If the Rozarrians were right and there truly _was_ a divine hand out there that wrote down all the events that took place in a person's life… she didn't think much of whatever author was penning _her_ exploits currently.

But still, missing Larsa may have been for the best. Negotiations did have a tendency to go wrong way up when one of the parties (see: herself) couldn't even find a decent pair of underpants. And though the man might have been missing, his presence lingered in the form of a set of clothes spread upon her bed-sheets and a note pinned to them neatly.

And when she threw herself on the bed stark naked to go through what he had left behind, laughter was the best reaction for most of what she ended up reading.

_Dearest Penelo,_ his note began brightly. And even if Penelo had known nothing else about the boy penning it, she would have been able to tell that he had been highly educated by his strong, clean hand and inability to stay away from twee openings that no normal person would use without severe amounts of irony.

(God bless the nobility.)

_Dearest Penelo,_

_I must offer you my deepest apologies for not greeting you myself after your bath. Unfortunately, our generous host, the Marquis Halim Ondore IV, instructed me to meet him for a policy discussion within his private quarters and I must attend to whatever preoccupies his thoughts. Trust that I would much rather have lingered in your presence than spent another moment tiresomely going back and forth over policy discussion and whether 'resistance' or 'rebellion' would more suit a certain political movement whose current strategy mostly seems to entail hunkering down within a damp lair and not actually accomplishing much._

Penelo paused and then decided, on the whole, not to be flattered. Canny though Larsa might be, he really needed to work on his 'hiding the backhanded compliment' skills.

_But before I was forced to vacate your domicile, I left a set of clothes for you upon your bed-- which I'm sure you have found, as you've already proven your keen eyesight from previous observations of Judge Ghis' (and I quote) 'general douchebaggery'._

Okay, _that_ won an honest-to-god laugh from her. Apparently, being royalty didn't mean having to skip an actual sense of humor. Which was nice to know, considering she might be spending a great deal of time with _this_ particular royal in the future.

Maybe. Possibly. But she wouldn't bet on either a yay or nay yet.

_And I must apologize once more for not being able to clothe you in anything better than a set of old garments I salvaged from my luggage. Naturally, I do not tend to travel about the continent with a set of women's clothing and I did not feel it was appropriate to ask the Marquis to lend me anything more than he has. In any case, I used to wear what I've passed down to you myself and I thought it would be more comfortable for you than my current wardrobe, given our disparity in heights. (Do not think of yourself as overly petite, my lady; rather, think of **me** as unnaturally elongated.)_

Since Penelo's head barely reached his collar bone, she agreed with this quite fervently. But then, most northerners tended to be freakishly lengthy. Possibly it was something they bred for up there, along with that ridiculous accent, a preference for armor that actually covered their abdomen and the ability to drop anything and everything when it came time to have tea. In fact, their instinct towards the drink was so strong that native-born Rabanastrans always looked forward to tea-time for the Archadians stationed in their city-- if only because if was the one thing that got those pricks off their backs regularly.

_And I do hope this will be enough to persuade you to allow me to finally taking you shopping. I believe that once you give a proper look to the only other suitable dress I could find you, you will understand both why I greatly looked forward to growing older as a child and why the men-folk of my empire have a bit of a… reputation for gender ambiguity._

Penelo gave the clothes on the bed a quick glance and recoiled. He certainly _hadn't_ been kidding.

_I have left a few books and journals for you to make use of in my absence, in case you pine for activity. And with luck, I will see you again in this very room shortly, though the Marquis can be rather long-winded indeed. In fact, I can only pray to any gods that exist that no one thinks to asks him of the recent hubbub over the strange revivification of a certain personage within his sky city. I have heard of cults before but I still cannot imagine why anyone would want to parade through the streets of Bhujerba in a drunken haze whilst screaming of the resurrection of a certain deceased captain and handing out illegible pamphlets proclaiming that the end is near and that only those that embrace his love in their hearts will be shown mercy._

Penelo's eye twitched at that. That sounded almost uncomfortably like a certain person she was going to maim as soon as she tracked him down, actually…

_In any case, I remain--_

Larsa Ferrinas Solidor  
Son of the Royal Line of House Solidor  
Rulers of Archadia and Its Realms Beyond the Sea

And that made her smile sadly.

As though she could ever let herself forget that.

As though that gap could ever be breached.

But then, she shook her head decisively. She wasn't going to let herself worry about anything of that nature right now-- not when she had so much unexpected freedom on her hands and so little time to exploit it. No, she wasn't going to spend her time sighing and sulking over something she couldn't help. She was going to slip on the clothes left to her, quickly go through the books left behind to see if there was something she could use in the future-- and then a little exploring of her own, to a confirm a few hunches she'd been having.

After all, however kind this prince had been to her so far, she still didn't know if she could trust him. Everything she knew of Larsa's plans centered around the idea that he was attempting to help his empire by parceling back at least some of Dalmasca's sovereignty. And if those plans were simply part of a ploy to-- gods, she didn't know-- to wrestle power from his father or his elder brothers or whoever it was that was keeping him from being merely a prince rather than an actual emperor…

The soft smile gracing her face turned brittle instantly.

She didn't want to go through that; no, not ever again.

Not again and not even with this boy here.

Penelo forced herself to take a deep breath, to banish those memories from her mind decisively. There was a great deal to do and wallowing in the worst case scenario was useless-- she needed to go out and either confirm or dismiss her fears. She had long since learned that lying around being hopeless was practically the same as to lying down and admitting defeat. Even if action was hard, even if she was more used to reacting than acting--

Smarter than they thought she was, she reminded herself sternly, even as she dropped the towel around her and picked up a rather hopelessly puffy blouse that could have passed for a pillow case in dimmer light. Smarter and sharper and harsher and faster...

She could feel herself smiling now, mouth moving though she couldn't remember sending it any commands: a smile with a lot of _teeth._

She had always been just a smidge brighter than people enjoying believing her to be.

And that was, and would always be, the hidden ace up her sleeve.

* * *

Unfortunately, while it was perfectly well and good to get dressed and go out searching for answers, Penelo found it hard to be a proper investigator once she got lost and found herself roaming about the corridors of a seemingly endless palace, panicking to the point of not quite knowing where was up, where was down, where was north, and where was south-- and whether she'd ever see another hume face again before she starved to death in a palatial wilderness after a pathetic attempt to cling to life by chewing on whatever tapestries she found.

Even more unfortunate was that she had no real idea what would prove that Larsa was trying to help Dalmasca by whoring her publicly out in his empire. It was true that she had always prided herself on being sassy, spunky, feisty, jolly and a host of other adjectives that were festive yet meaningless. But sadly, it was becoming increasingly clear to her that she wouldn't know what conclusive evidence of Larsa's innocence would look like if it came up to her, stripped down to nothing but a pair of pasties and proceeded to do a sexy little shimmy.

And most unfortunate of all was the fact that she was currently stuck in an outfit that looked like a sullen cream-puff crossed over with an enraged plum, topped off with a hint of poisoned cherry. She wasn't even sure what she was most humiliated by. Was it the poufy white sleeves that made her look as though she was smuggling moogles against her armpits? Or the itchy white ruff that kept savaging her chin? It could be the billowing gray tunic that made her look as though she had a pot belly she hadn't eaten enough to form in years. Or maybe the ridiculous purple tights that kept riding up her well toned rear in a way that was just _maddening._

But really, her money for the crowning cherry on top of her woe-cake was on the stupid boots she had been forced to wear, what with her own pair having mysteriously disappeared after her bath. The stupid, stupid, _stupid_ green-and-brown boots that kept cramping up on her feet with their stupid, stupid, _stupid_ cherry-red heels and their stupid, stupid, _stupid_ nearly invisible lacing going up her thighs--

What she had mistaken for an obscure joke was, to put it plainly, not. And at this point, wearing this outfit, she was coming ever closer to accepting-- even rejoicing!-- over the possibility of a lonely death that came from starving in the middle of an exceptionally well-furnished and aristocratic wilderness. Her only hope was that in due time, the scavengers that were sure to roam these gilded halls at night would come and chew the clothes off of her before her inevitable end. She might have stoically resigned herself to death but she still didn't want to go to her end looking like a lazy-eyed, color-blind, pastry-fetishizing pirate with absolutely no fashion sense whatsoever.

(But then, she'd heard rumors that even the king of pirates in Balfonheim dabbled with gender ambiguity, what with his well-known propensity for going about in bright pink pantaloons. Maybe she'd fit quite well into pirating life after all, much to Vaan's short-lived happiness and glee.)

But it was about the point in which she had decided to just lay down and let the elements savage her that her miracle finally came to her.

True, it wasn't a miracle in any conventional sense, what with it being less a voice from the heavens or a triage of helpful forest animals than a man who walked into whatever god-forsaken hall she had found herself trapped in. And he wasn't exactly the most reassuring stranger to have stumbled onto either. Thin of face, dark of hair, narrow of eye, pursed of lip... and most worrying of all, fully armored and carrying a sword that glittered with a potent sense of malice even when fully sheathed...

Under normal circumstances, Penelo wouldn't have classified meeting a stranger like this as a miracle of any shade, shape or form. In fact, under normal circumstances, she likely would have hastily bowed her head, mumbled an apology and scampered off as fast as these ridiculous green booties would take her. She hadn't spent all too many of her formative years in the slums of Lowtown without learning precisely what sort of gentlemen to avoid under what sort of conditions, after all. And a meeting with a dangerous stranger where no one else was a round...

But these weren't normal circumstances. She was at least a hundred miles from home, she had been kidnapped once (possibly twice), she had been propositioned as a political operative by a prince from a foreign and very dangerous land, and she was somehow quite sure that she--

_shards and shrapnel under her feet; brother's voice mumbling faltering incoherancies in her ear; hot breath on her damp and shuddering cheeks; reks underneath her in their bed, panting and groaning and almost laughing; something wet beneath her shaking fingers, sickly sweet and transmuting; the sliver of a sword sold off after war; a medal in her hand already rusting; a fairy tale prince felled by an arrow from beyond; a princess who had slit her own throat weeping; glint of golden hair glimpsed from far off; migelo whispering please gods, forgive me_

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she found herself asking hoarsely. Something in that skull-like face, something in those sunken eyes, something about him prickling at a thousand different portions inside her skull, needle-like and maddening...

And when he lowered those haunted eyes of his to look at hers, it was as though a lance made out of a thousand disconnected memories had seared her through entirely. She _knew_ this man; she had seen him before, she--

"Who I am is none of your concern," he murmured, and his voice was hoarse and yet startlingly similar to her own, all his syllables accented of a desert land she wanted to return to so desperately. "And neither does your identity intrigue _me_."

A more sensible girl probably would have backed off at this point, simply because of the intensity of his stare. A more sensible girl would have apologized by now. A more sensible girl would have turned and already began retreating.

But instead, the lies easily sprang to her lips, as though she spent her whole life practicing.

(And maybe some part of her actually had. Perhaps this was the role of a lifetime here.)

"Well, I still wanna tell you my name's Elle," she coolly said, letting her lips curl up into an inviting smile as she leaned in towards tall, dark and snarly. "And I'm Lord Larsa's _favorite_ mistress. You don't think it's worth just a bit of your time to talk to me?"

* * *

**Author's Note**: My greatest regret over having abandoned this fic? Never getting the chance to fully develop the Penelo/Larsa/Vossler (Larsa is _so_ in the middle) political subtext buried. Here's hoping someone else will carry that crazy shipping torch from hereon!

* * *


End file.
